"Who's going to believe you? A woman who just lost a baby, clearly unstable, making wild accusations against her devoted husband?" He shakes his head sadly. "They'll think the grief has made you paranoid. Delusional, even."

The picture he's painting is crystal clear: a prison of pity, locked with the key of public sympathy.

"Alessa believed me."

"Did she? Because she seemed pretty convinced by my explanation." His smile is gentle, loving, terrifying. "But even if she had doubts, what could she ...